Some young lady
by Panic at-the Edward
Summary: Post P&P. Lizzy and Darcy's daughter is trying to become a young lady, learning about life, love, and heartbreak through her mistakes.
1. I need a drink

_**Disclaimer: I'm not Jane Austen, need I say more?**_

**AN: I always wondered what type of parents Lizzy and Darcy would become . . . this is the story of their daughter, Lily Darcy. The first chapter is not very centered on P&P characters, but that will all change soon. **

I knew I had gone too far, but I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was his, every single time it was his. He took credit for everything, but took the blame for nothing! He was the most egotistic macho stuck up man in the existence of time. How do you love an ass hole? The more appropriate question in my case would be how do I not love this ass hole? I needed the answer, and quickly. I would lose it when he found me in my dreams, lose everything I hated about him and remember everything that I loved. I hated him yet I was pulled towards him constantly by something that was more than physical, almost spiritual. But if I hated him, wouldn't my spirit back me up here? Could no one back me up? Not even myself?

I walked down stairs into the newly remodeled basement. I walked at a brisk pace, headed straight for the wine cellar. I wasn't really a drinker, but as I came into the dark room I realized that I was looking for as much alcohol as I could force down my system. I ran towards the back- where not only wine was stored. My father had not been an alcoholic, but he had inherited the enormous Pemberly estate wine cellar that went with the enormous Pemberly estate. The dark room was rarely visited by my father, unless it was used as a hallway.

I was sprinting now down this hallway now, itching for something to numb my mind. I reached the end of the wine cellar and then threw my weight against the apparently solid stone wall. I knew that the brick was only a covering, like paneling. The wood underneath the 3-D wallpaper swung forth to reveal an enormous room. A grand bar was set against the far wall, fully stocked. I barely noticed the dark wood of the huge pool table that was off to the left of the door. I wasn't aware of the huge shelves filled with books and the enormous leather chairs or the priceless paintings that hung on the wall. My eyes locked on a crystal container holding a rich amber liquid. I didn't bother to grab a glass, not caring about spilling the drink.

I leaned over the bar and snatched the bottle from the shelf of a liquor store that was built into the wall. My dad had a way of overdoing things . . . maybe I had inherited that trait, there was one way to find out. I popped off the top of the crystal container and set it not so gently onto the bar. I held the heavy crystal container with both hands and tipped it into my mouth. Before the drink reached my lips, I knew that it would be disgusting. This was the type of drink that wasn't taken strait, but I planned on downing it. The heavy liquid seared through my throat like a roaring fire, I relished it. I felt the liquid spill down my front as I sputtered on the drink, but I couldn't care less. The fire in my throat had turned into a need, burning and craving for more. The drink had already started to numb my senses. I was starting to sway as I continued gulping down the drink, never pausing for air. It felt as though it was daring me to drink more as it scorched my throat. More and more of it was splashing out of the container now, falling down my skirts or just hitting the floor. I was nearly a half of the way through when I felt my legs buckling beneath me. Somehow I managed to make it to one of the chairs before collapsing. I was still 

drinking as I moved, but when I sank into the chair the crystal slipped out of my hands onto the floor, I think it was then that I passed out.

"Miss Darcy, Miss Darcy please wake up." The deep voice was slurring in my mind.

"Derik, move out of the way!" Ouch, this voice was squeaky and high, the sound of it hurt my head. I felt cold hands shaking me, as if I didn't feel dizzy enough. I wearily opened my eyes and saw four people standing around me. I was still being shaken, and the people seemed to be spinning. I had no idea where I was or even who these people were, they wouldn't stay still long enough for me to get a clear look.

"Stop shaking me." I heard myself moan in a dazed voice that was not my own.

"I stopped shaking you a while ago Miss." I winced, it was squeaky again. "When you didn't come to your breakfast appointment I said to Derik here 'Miss Darcy has never missed one single appointment, something must be wrong!' And then I says to myself that it had something to do with Mr. Darsworth and that I never did like him much, no offense Miss. So I thinks to myself that I should find Mr. Darsworth and I should demand to know where you are and so I go up to Mr. Darsworth's guest room and he says to me he doesn't know where you are, and so I thinks to myself where else would you be and then Derik comes up from cleaning and he says 'Martha, you had better come see!' And so -" She would have kept going until my head exploded, if I hadn't intercepted her monologue with an over dramatic groan.

"Mrs. Glen, please. I believe that Miss Darcy will be hearing the entire story once her father is found anyway." That time it was deep-voice who spoke, but not to me. I was still being shaken, until those words snapped me out of it. There seemed to be only two people here, I wondered where the others had gone, were they fetching father already? I immediately remembered where I was, and that I wasn't supposed to be here. My father was coming. This was bad, this was very, very bad. My not-so thought out plan last night had been to get a strong drink, go to my chamber, and drink myself into numbness there, I could pass it off as feeling ill if I had been into my room. I remembered the drunken haze I had been in before I came here, why I had come here. A lump formed in my throat and I shut my eyes, trying to block out the memory of his blunt goodbye.

"I need a drink." I was moaning again.

"Ms. Darcy! You obviously have already had quite enough of that!" It was squeaky again. She sucked in a breath to continue but blew it out quickly as someone entered the room.

"Perhaps I should have been informed of my daughter's whereabouts when they were discovered." To my relief, it was not the person I had expected.

"Mr. and Mrs. Glen, would you please allow me a moment with my daughter?" Came my mother's voice, she was clearly not happy.

"Why yes, of course, Mrs. Darcy!" came squeaky. The couple started to leave but my mother stopped them at the door.

"I do hope that this information travels no further." She said, though her voice was calm and polite, there was no mistaking the command in the statement.

"You have my word, Mrs. Darcy. It is certainly no business of ours." It was deep-voice, or rather, Mr. Glen, who spoke this time, though his wife wore a small, disappointed frown on her face. I was sure that she had been planning to tell the entire staff the scandal of Miss Darcy being caught drunk in her father's secret room. "Of course, Mrs. Darcy." Said Mrs. Glen, as she turned to leave.

"Wait! What about the others?" I asked, my voice was still very slurred, I hardly recognized it.

"Others, Miss?" Mrs. Glen turned to face me, her round face looking quizzically at mine.

"There were two other people here with you, you were standing around me and then-" I gulped, realizing that I had been mistaken as I took in the look on both Mr. and Mrs. Glen's faces.

"I assure you Miss Darcy, it was only Derik and I that have been down here, and unless you came accompanied last night . . . "I could tell that Mrs. Glen was looking for information, her gossiping mind hungry for a story. I began shaking my head, but realizing how much that hurt, I was about to deny her theory before my mother cut in.

"That's quite enough, Mrs. Glen. Thank you for caring for her, but there will no longer be any need of assistance. Dismissal was clear on my mother's mind.

"Of course, Mrs. Darcy, would you like me to fetch Mr. Darcy for you?" Came Mrs. Glen's squeaky high voice, I wondered when that woman would just leave, I was seriously starting not to like her. I waited for my mother's reaction.

"Has Mr. Darcy been informed of this, ah, event?"

"No, not yet Mrs. Darcy." Came squeaky's reply, it was all too clear how much she wanted to be the one to inform Mr. Darcy of the news.

"Then no, thank you. My husband is very busy today and I believe that this will only disturb him."

"As you wish ma'am." Mrs. Glen bitterly replied. She curtsied on her way out and I heard the click of her shoes traveling briskly down the wine cellar. She did not pause for her husband.

"Thank you Mr. Glen." I said with sincerity. It was not his fault that his wife was a terribly talkative old gossip.

"You are most welcome, Miss Darcy." He said, bowing as he left the room.

The door closed and my mother walked over to where I lie on the huge chair. She helped me to slowly sit up and looked at my worried face.

"Why do you look like that, Lily?" She asked, taking up a seat across from me. Her bright eyes searched my face for an answer as I stupidly replied.

"Like what?" I asked.

"You look very afraid, my dear." Her tone of voice was so much softer and warmer than when she had spoken to the Glens. It was utterly confusing to me. Here I was, a complete mess of myself when I should have been acting like a fine young lady. I was still confused in my drunken state and I had a hard time comprehending her sympathy.

"Aren't you, well, angry?" I managed to splutter out. I could not imagine how much trouble I would be in once father found out.

"No, darling. You are a responsible young woman, and though you acted out of character, I know that you are sorry for your actions by that look on your face." She smiled at me and continued. "I have to wonder though, why you would do this . . . you hardly like alcohol, and yet you seemed to have drunk yourself into unconsciousness. Come now, dear, don't tell me you did this for no reason. What is the matter?"

"It's well, Ethan . . ." I stammered.

"Ah," my mother said, I was sure that she could tell that I was in no state to talk about it when she looked me over and then continued. "Later then, for now let us get you cleaned up. Aunt Georgina will be coming by shortly."

**AN: Like I said, not very P&P yet, but it's coming! Please Review!! Good, bad, and ugly (not too ugly though). ******


	2. My idiotic little garden

Disclaimer: I think you all know that I am not the brilliant Jane Austen, so do I really need to go through this? You know I don't own anything . . .

**AN: Sorry for not updating in a long time, I know I could go on a rant giving you a whole list of excuses for not updating, but it would be pointless. I'll try my best to update more frequently, but just remember that reviews are major motivators for me!**

The rest of the day was passing by in a blur. Luckily, my father really was busy and had not yet been informed of what happened last night. I did not want to face him, I was sure that my face would give away my guilt and I would end up telling him the entire tale. If he were the sort of man to yell at me over something like this, it would be different. If a simple punishment would be given by him, I would take it gladly. I had behaved irresponsibly, not thinking about my actions or how they would affect him. Of course he would not yell at me though, he would do something far worse, he would be disappointed in me.

I very rarely disappointed my father, but he was not easily displeased by me. He thought I was a perfect, is all ways. He never neglected to tell me this. He always greeted me with a hug, telling me that he loved me. That isn't to say that he spoiled me, he was a very good parent, making sure that I knew how to behave and act properly. He made sure that I had my own opinion, and never agreed with someone if I didn't want to. He was a great man and a great father, but he underestimated my wicked side. He would never guess that I was capable of disobeying him. He would never have thought I was hopelessly in love with the one man who he had told me never to love. He had known, however, that this man was capable of breaking my heart.

Ethan Darsworth.

The only person that I was less eager to see than my father right now was him. Meeting with him would be unavoidable, though, as he was staying in one of Pemberly's many guest rooms for the next fortnight. He was seeking out my father to advise him on business. He had very recently inherited his grandfather's estate. Coincidently, his grandfather had been a dear mentor to my father at one point, and my father had willingly agreed to help Ethan sort out the business of handling his new estate. The late Mr. Darsworth's estate was nearly two day's carriage ride away from Pemberly, and comings and goings between Ethan and my father would be very inconvenient if Ethan was so far away. My father had invited him to stay at Pemberly until everything had been smoothed out. Ethan had no idea how to handle such a business on his own and was very grateful that my father was advising him and helping him out of his fix.

I had never regretted the fact that father had taken Ethan under his wing, until now. How was I supposed to face him, after having been so humiliatingly naïve? On the other hand, how could I not face him? I was drawn to him, no matter what he had done to me. How on earth was I supposed to understand my torn feelings or control my actions? I was so very near to him, and I hated it and loved it at the same time. I tried to remind myself that I hated him, but I was never a skilled liar, and I did not believe myself.

I was sitting on my bed, a large glass of water sitting beside me to help rid myself of the alcohol. I stared out over my balcony to my garden. I had chosen every flower and helped tend to them throughout my child. It was a bright patch of land, with every color bouncing off of the next erratically. The flowers were not arranged in any specific fashion, they were scattered around randomly, my parents had given me complete control over my garden, and I took it gladly. I usually enjoyed the sight of my garden, because though I know that it was not a proper garden, I had created it and given it life.

Now I stared at it in disgust. It represented how childish I truly was. When I had planted those seeds, I was trying to do something grown up by controlling my own space. Now I was just as much of a child, though instead of planting seeds, I had gone and fallen in love. I had thought that I was grown up enough to be in love, I had really believed that I was loved back. I was such a child, and I hated myself for it. If only I had been thinking more clearly, instead of acting like a little girl, maybe I would have thought about the consequences of falling in love. I should have known that Ethan would never truly love me. I should have known how to speak with a clear head that was not clouded by idiotic fantasies. I was disgusted with myself. But worse than all of this was that I still wished those idiotic fantasies of Ethan loving me would come true. I hated myself most of all for this.

I drained the contents of my glass and wished that it was not water I was drinking, though I knew that this line of thinking was not one I would actually follow through again. I sat silently in my room for hours, usually this would have been unheard of, but my mother had informed the entire staff that I was not feeling well, and that allowing me to sleep would be the best course of action. I was very grateful for my mother. She somehow understood what I was going through, though I did not know how she could relate. My mother had told me before that father was the only man she had ever loved, and I knew that he never could have hurt her the way that Ethan was hurting me. Yet somehow she knew exactly how I was feeling, and what was best for me.

I just sat on my bed, replaying every moment of last night over and over in my head. Where had I gone wrong? I was blaming myself far more than I was blaming Ethan, though the sensible part of me told me that it was pointless to do so. My sensible side had been reduced to a near nothingness, though, so it really did not matter what it had to say at the moment.

**AN: I was going to explain what happened to Lily and Ethan in this chapter, but it would have been way too long, so that will be next chapter. Please, please, please review!! If no one tells me what I am doing wrong or right I will never know!! It doesn't have to be a sweet review either, just tell me what ya think! **


	3. My overlytalented teacher

_Disclaimer: I am not, nor will I ever be Jane Austen, so do I have to keep admitting it?_

**AN: I guess I will finally tell you what happened with Ethan and Lily! So read on to find out all of the drama!!**

I was being irresponsible, yet again, but this time in a far different way. I knew it was foolish to try and become ill, but I thought that maybe I would then have a right to mope in bed all day. I had just come from taking a bath, and my hair was dripping wet. I had insisted on taking an evening bath, claiming that it would be best for my cold. I was not lying. If I wanted to catch the cold, then it was perfect. After taking the bath, I had immediately come to my chamber. I pretended to go to sleep, and then snuck out onto my balcony into the crisp night. It was a windy week, as summer was slowly fading to autumn, and the chill was clear evidence of this. My feet bare, my hair wet, I embraced the bumps on my arms, hoping that they led to a cough that may keep me bed-ridden for at least a week. That would mean only one last week of having to endure Ethan, and hopefully by that time I will have recovered from both my infatuation and my illness.

It was quite rude of me not to greet Aunt Georgiana, but I claimed to be contagious and wished for no visitors, save my mother. At least Auntie would hopefully distract my father, who normally would be checking on me very frequently. He had only entered my chamber twice, to find how I was feeling. I hated lying to him, forcing weak coughs and leaning my head towards a flame to make it hot. Hopefully, though, I would not have to act for much longer. After the wind had dried my hair and I could feel my lips changing color, I decided to go back inside my chamber. I lit several candles and placed them in a circle around my bed. I tried to make myself focus purely on the flickering shadows that the flames created, but I was constantly drifting to the memory of last night, a lifetime ago.

It had started as any other day with Ethan had. I had met with Mr. Darsworth during breakfast. Father and mother were also there, of course, so we had only the most civilized conversations. I spoke calmly that morning, though I was jumping on the inside. I was anticipating my riding "lesson" with Ethan that would begin at noon. Ethan was a skilled horseman, and had proposed early in his stay to spend afternoons teaching me how to ride while father took care of his usual business. My father had consented, once prompted by my mother.

Ethan had taken me out around the vast grounds of Pemberly most days, and this is how I had fallen in love with him. I remember on the first day of our lessons, he was just another man, though rather more handsome than most. He had the proper manners that I knew far too well, though he used them in a way that I had never known. He was proper and respectful as were most of the people who surrounded me, but unlike them, he meant what he said. What he said met his eyes, instead of acting out of habit, he was truly respectful. Unlike most, he asked questions not because it was proper, but because he really seemed interested in whatever it was that was occupying my mind. I had never been in love before I met him, only having read about it in my novels. I did not believe in fairytales, though seeing my parents I knew that love was true. I never thought that it could ever happen to me, though.

I was a foolish idiot to believe otherwise. I groaned inwardly remembering how deceived I had been. He had told me that he loved me. He had said it clearly, unless my imagination had warped his clear voice. I 

was starting to think that maybe it had. I had been lied to. He had never loved me, of course, as I now knew. I began to weep silently for what must have been the thousandth time, remembering how everything had changed on that ride.

He had taken me through a new path yesterday; the spark in his eyes had diminished a small amount. His eyes had fascinated me. They were a deep, mesmerizing hazel. I could identify at least half a dozen different hues in his irises. I knew those eyes by heart, as I had spent so much of my time over the last two weeks studying them carefully. I knew that something was not quite right as we left the grand stable, heading into unknown territory. He usually would help me onto my saddle, though the help was not needed. That day, however, he had done no such thing. He was as polite as ever, though the usual character behind the mannerisms had vanished. I was quite skeptical, his mood had appeared out of nowhere, or so I had thought. How was I to guess that I was responsible for such an uncharacteristic change?

"My dear," he had begun, as he had so many times before, though this time there was a slight sharpness in his tone. "I believe that you are progressing very well as a rider." He had never spoken so rigidly to me; I was very confused, but still so unsuspecting.

"Thank you, but you must remember that the true credit is due to my overly-talented teacher." I had said it playfully, but his reaction was so strange that I allowed the reigns to slip through my fingers.

"Only the best for the precious Miss Darcy." The comment was perfectly courteous, of course, but the way that he said it was what made me freeze. He spat the statement bitterly as though disgusted to the very core. He had never behaved so, well, meanly before. I was astounded, but driven to find what was wrong. His black mare galloped ahead, not stopping at all for me to catch up. Once I had recovered myself, I had sprinted ahead of him, turning to block the lane so that he would have to go through me to continue along the path.

"Whatever is troubling you, Ethan?" I asked, my own eyes wide with confusion.

"Nothing at all, but you never let me finish my statement before. You really are very skilled; in fact, I believe that these lessons are hardly needed anymore." I couldn't be sure which had surprised me more, his words, or the blunt voice that had spoken them. I was utterly confused, I had never seen him act less than perfectly, and now here he was, making no sense at all, and being so strangely cold.

"Well, we had established this after the first few lessons but you had said that you enjoyed riding with me, though you had no more to teach me." I was surprised at the roughness to my own voice, I had not meant to be angry, but he had confused me to the point of frustration.

"Yes, well it is irresponsible to be gallivanting around in a garden when your father, the great and prideful Mr. Darcy is working ever so hard for me, so if you do not mind, there is no purpose to our being out here if you have learned all that I can teach." I was appalled at the way he spoke about my father, he usually was very grateful for what my father was doing for him, but now he sounded nothing less than spiteful. I remember the anger flaring inside me.

"What on earth is wrong with you, _Mister_ Darsworth? My father has been so kind to help you in your time of need and yet you scorn his kindness? You are not at all yourself today, and I doubt that even you realize what you are saying. You are acting like an arrogant, scornful, and prideful cruel person!" I was enraged that he could be so unthankful for my father's kindness, confused that he would act so much unlike himself, and scared because the glint in his eyes was hard and sharp as a knife. "But I know that you are not." I said this in a small, meaningless voice, as if to wash away what I had said before. Because though I was so angry with him, I still found that I loved him.

"Quite contrary to your beliefs, _Miss _Darcy, I have acted more myself today than I have acted in a very long time, and if you do not know this, then you can hardly know me at all." He flung the words out at me with all of the sharpness I had found in his eyes. I found that this merely enraged me more.

"How dare you say that I do not know you?" I was nearly shouting the words; I felt my face flushing in the heat of the argument. I was scared, more than anything, that what he was saying was true.

"You have not, do not, and will not ever know the real me Miss Darcy. I am merely another man indebted to your father, and of course, an 'overly talented riding teacher'." My quote sounded so different through his stabbing tone.

"Was it all a pretend game then? Do you really mean to say that we have shared nothing over the past two weeks at all that any student and teacher may share?" I ferociously spat out the words, demanding him to tell me that he had lied to me.

"Nothing at all, Miss Darcy." His tone was not at all angry anymore, but far more severe. It was unnaturally devoid of emotion. Completely blank and expressionless, as was his face. He turned and rode swiftly away, making me wonder if he had been real at all. I was dazed and confused. I had no idea what happened, and when I stopped to think about it, I realized that he must not have meant it when he told me that he loved me. He had been merely acting his entire time with me, pretending that he was someone that he obviously was not. It hurt so much more than if he had said that he did not love me anymore, because now I knew that he never really loved me at all. Worse still, I realized that I loved the pretend Ethan, the one who was kind and paid attention to me, the Ethan that was now no more than a memory.

**AN: Most of the preface-type explaining is now complete; the gaps will be filled in as Lily finds them out later. I know this was a very OC chapter, but I will incorporate a lot more Darcy in the next one.This means a lot more dialogue coming up! Please review!! I honestly want some feedback!! I really need to know how I am doing with this one! As usual, good, bad, and random reviews are all appreciated!**


End file.
